Hard Choices, Easy Decisions
by anonymouswriterff
Summary: You put her into his arms. You got them together. You told her to marry him. And now you are cursing yourself for letting her go, but you still believe it was the right choice to make. You have to believe it was the right choice even though deep down it feels as if your heart has been ripped out of your chest and buried deep under the ground after someone set it on fire.


**This is something I wrote in between writing my other stories. I hope you guys like it. Feel free to let me know what you think.**

 **A big thank you to FlamingInk987 for beta reading this one. You're awesome!**

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You are standing in the first row next to the isle, watching as a gorgeous blonde beauty began walking towards you. Her hair is pulled up and she's wearing a stunning wedding gown while carrying a white boquet of flowers in her hands. She strolls down the isle slowly and keeps her eyes on you. For a moment you allow yourself to imagine it was you who she was walking towards, but instead, she gives you a sad smile and walks past, linking her hand with the man who was waiting for her.

The turth is, you never really wanted to be here. You wanted to be in London by the time she got married, but your flight wasn't until the next evening. You watch as she looks over her shoulder and locks eyes with you. The sadness is evident in her bright blue orbs, but you are the only one who sees it. You are the only one she _allows_ to see it. With one last sad, apologetic smile, she turns back to her soon to be husband. He smiles at her and she smiles back, although you know she doesn't really mean it.

It should be _you_ standing up there next to her. It should be _you_ holding her hands in your own. It should be _you_ saying "I do". But it's not you and your stomach turns as they share a kiss. A kiss you know she hates. A kiss with a man you know she doesn't want to be with. You close your eyes as the kiss seems much too long even though it only lasts a few seconds. You bite back a tear and you won't let it fall because you don't cry in public. Your heart aches as you force your eyes to open and you let out a sigh in relief as the kiss has ended.

Now your heart truly breaks as he turns around to the crowd and proudly introduces his wife. He smiles widely and you notice she can't take her eyes off of yours. She's silently pleading for you to stand up for yourself and speak up, but you don't. You _can't_. You know she deserves more than what you can give her. So you flash her a weak smile and give her a nod, urging her to walk onto the dancefloor with her husband to start their first dance. You can even feel her heart shatter to pieces as you stand your ground, feeling as if you are nailed to the floor. Only when she turns into his arms and starts dancing do you feel the strength to move. You slowly walk towards the dancefloor and sit down on a table nearby, observing how her body language is screaming for him to let her go. He has no clue.

You close your eyes once again, not wanting to see her pain. You don't want to see it because you can _feel_ it. You are hurting in the exact same way. It should be _you_ on the dancefloor, your arms around her waist to pull her close. But it isn't you and instead of being on the dancefloor you are sitting at a table silently cursing to yourself because it is all your own fault and you know it. You both landed here in this position because of the choices _you_ made. _You_ put her into his arms. _You_ got them together. _You_ told her to marry him. And now you are cursing yourself for letting her go, but you still believe it was the right choice to make. You _have_ to believe it was the right choice even though deep down it feels as if your heart has been ripped out of your chest and buried deep under the ground after someone set it on fire.

A few nights ago you both confessed your feelings for one another and you even had a passionate night together. You can still feel her touch burn on your skin and you certainly don't mind. You will always remember how she touched you, how she worshipped your body, how she made love to you. A genuine smile now covers your lips as you remember every single detail about that perfect night. Somehow you even believe things would have been different if your mother hadn't called that particular night.

But she _did_ call and you _did_ pick up the phone. You listened to her as she told you you were going to get a phonecall from Clyde you would not be able to resist. Your mother wanted to get higher up in the politics ranks and how could she do that if her daughter was just a low level FBI profiler? She got you a job at Interpol and even found you a man by the name of Mark to make your life complete. You were angry at first, hell you were _furious,_ to hear her say how she wanted you to be an example. An example of how well a politician could raise a daughter. And you obey because she's your mother and you are too much of a coward to stand up to her. For now at least.

So in the end you agreed to her terms to move to London and play her game. You told yourself it's just until she gets higher up the chain, but you knew what you were leaving behind and it broke your heart. You turned to the woman you love and explained the situation. You expected her to be angry, dissapointed even, but much to your surprise, she _understood._ She understood you listened to your mother because she would do the same. She also believed that some day, you would find the strength deep down in your heart to stand your ground and go against her wishes. And when you do, she will be right there waiting for you to catch you when you fall. That is just the hard ass evidence of how much she truly loves you.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you are snapped out of your thoughts, but you keep your eyes closed because you already know it's _her._ The softness of her skin and the way she touches you gives it away. She lets her hand follow a trail on your arm until she reaches your hand and she tugs and you are reluctant at first, but you can't fight her for long. You never could. You allow her to pull you to your feet and you finally open your eyes as she takes you to the dancefloor. Her husband is standing near the side and only now do you realise their song is still playing. She told him she wanted to dance with you and he lets her because he knows you're her best friend and he believes he shouldn't stand in the way of such a beautiful friendship.

She wraps her arms around your neck and you slowly bring your arms around her waist to pull her close as you start swaying to the music. You dare to take a glance at her husband while you dance with his wife, her head now resting comfortably on your shoulder. He smiles because he knows she's his wife and you're her best friend. If he only knew what happened between the two of you, he probably wouldn't be smiling right now.

You keep looking at the man whose life was literally hanging by a thread in your hands mere hours ago. A bomb was strapped to his body and for an instant, you allowed yourself to think you should just run outside and tell everyone you were too late. She would even have been okay with that. You could also have cut the wrong wire, but that meant blowing yourself up too and you weren't really fond of that idea. Opting for the third option, you positioned yourself in front of him because you knew he loved her and he would be good for her, he'd protect her no matter what. So you saved him and you made sure to push her to marry him because you wanted her to be happy when you were gone, even though you knew she'd never be happy with him. It was _you_ she wanted.

As you feel your heart being ripped out of your chest once again, you gently push her away. She looks at you with confusion written on her face, but you excuse yourself and flee inside the house. Rossi's wine cabinet is where you stop and you pull out the first bottle you can find and you down it halfway. A chuckle comes from behind you and you nearly choke on your wine as you turn around to glare at the intruder, coughing to get the wine down your throat. Derek Morgan is standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused expression.

His grin falters quickly because he knows why you're in here. He's the only person who knows. "You're still leaving," he states quietly and your eyes fall to face the floor as you gently place the bottle on the kitchen counter behind you. He knows it's a hard decicion for you to make, but he is still persuading you to stay. "Emily, if you love JJ as much as you claim you do, the choice shouldn't be this hard. You should stay."

"I can't." Your voice cracks and he simply nods, but you don't see it because you are still facing the hardwood floor. You take in a deep breath and you look up to try and explain the situation once again, but you are at a loss of words as you notice the beauty that is Jennifer Jareau walking up to you. She halts a few metres away and greets Derek, who in turn leaves the kitchen. He knows the two of you need some privacy so he will be standing right outside the kitchen door like a bodyguard, stopping everyone who tries to walk inside.

"Emily," she whispers and she closes the space between the both of you as she steps into your arms and you finally allow your tears to fall. She has that effect on you. She knows there's nothing more you want to do but stay, but she understands you need to go. She leans back slightly and you feel soft lips against your cheek, kissing away the salty tears. She then cups your cheeks with both hands, forcing you to look into her heavenly blue eyes. "I will be right here waiting for you."

She reminds you of the song and you can't help but smile through your tears at the sincerity in her voice. You pull her back against you and wrap your arms around her waist as you try to remember every little detail about her body. How her hips fit against yours and it just feels so right. How she holds her arms around your neck with one hand at the back of your head, gently holding you close. How she has just the right height for you to put your arms around her waist. How she tilts her head just enough so it fits perfectly in the crook of your neck. How your bodies just feel like one.

After a few minutes, you reluctantly pull back, realising it's actually time to leave as you dare to take a glance at the kitchen clock on the wall. She knows what you're thinking and she doesn't want to say goodbye so she keeps quiet. You bring your hand up to brush her cheek and twirl a golden strand of hair between your fingers before tucking it away behind her ear. Then you slowly capture her lips with your own in a silent promise that you'll be back and she immediately responds. The kiss is soft and sweet and you both pull back but keep your foreheads rested against each other.

You look her in the eye and all you can see is pure love and adoration and in that moment you decide that you _will_ indeed come back. You will go to London, please your mother for a while and then you will be back. You will be back despite what your mother says. You will be back because the woman in your arms is worth fighting for. You will be back because you never really liked politics in the first place.

You give her one last kiss before pulling back completely and she knows your walls are down. You are allowing her to look into your soul, something only she is allowed to see. She smiles as she realises your plan and gives you a nod, once again proving she understands what you're trying to say without even using any words. She then turns around and walks outside, leaving you with a grin as if a mother had just told her child she'd get her favorite cookie.

What the hell were you even thinking considering your mother's offer in the first place? It never should have been a difficult decicion, but you made up your mind now. You are going to London, but not to play your mother's game. You are going to London to personally tell your mother to stick it somewhere you are not even going to verbalize. If she wanted higher up in the ranks, she'd have to figure out a way to do it without using her daughter. Then you are going to come back and claim what's always been yours.

Because Emily Prentiss is not a coward.

Because Emily Prentiss really, really, _really_ hates politics.


End file.
